Whiskey Lullaby
by Wrath-Chu
Summary: Alfred F. Jones thought he could protect the Baltics from Russia...Only to find that he wasn't strong enough to protect them. He couldn't protect his Baltic brothers, or Liet. AmericaxLithuania
1. He Spent All His Time Trying To Forget

**A/N:** Yes I have started up another one. XD; This one I wanted to write down before I forgot. This actually came from an idea from a Hetalia RPG board that I am on where America had intercepted the Baltic nations and is letting them stay with him for protection from Russia. He sees the Baltics as brothers, though somewhere along the way he fell hard for Lithuania.

The song is Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Allison Kraus.

Hetalia, America, Russia, and the Baltic nations do not belong to me. They belong to Hidekaz Himyura.

The story does belong to me. Please R&R~

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Alfred let out a quiet yawn as he walked into the door of his house, rubbing the back of his own next as he pushed the door shut with his foot. Meetings, meetings, and more meetings on top of being yelled and lectured at by his boss. Again. He at least knew he could come home to a clean home, good company, and to the loving arms of Liet. He would never deny their relationship; he served as a protector of the Baltic nations from Russia and somewhere along the way had fallen hard for the eldest.

"Liet! I'm home!" America called, blinking when he didn't get an immediate response. It was very unusual...He was usually immediately greeted with a hug and a kiss when he got home. America frowned as he walked around the house, calling "Liet? Ravis? Eduard? Anyone?"

When he received no answer, concern and worry boiled in the pit of his stomach as a sinking feeling tore at his insides. Alfred found himself without thinking running upstairs toward the bedrooms, pushing each of the doors open. His blue eyes dilated when in each of the rooms; he found the rooms to be torn apart with clothes thrown everywhere.

He then ran to his own room, finding it to also be torn to shreds. His eyes fell to a crumpled piece of paper on the bed, his face flushing of all color as he mechanically walked toward the bed. He slowly bent down and picked up the piece of paper, uncrumpling it before he read its contents.

Alfred's eyes immediately widened as his normally bright eyes fully dilated, his eyes squeezed shut as tears poured from the sides of his eyes. He let out a piercing scream as he tore and ripped at the paper, opening his eyes slowly as he watched the tiny paper bits flutter to the floor. His hands almost immediately raised and clung tightly to his own hair, his legs giving underneath him before he fell to his knees on the wooden floor below.

He felt himself fall into a bowing position, clinging and pulling at his own blonde hair as his eyes squeezed shut behind his glasses. Tears poured from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and staining the floor just beneath him. He felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest and stomped on repeatedly while the cold, taunting laughter of Ivan Braginski rang in his ears. The taunting laughter that told him that Lithuania was his once again, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

"Gone...They're all gone..." He whispered shakily. Alfred let out a deafening yell as he pounded the floor beneath his hands. Russia had come while he was gone...The Baltics didn't have time to get to their hiding safe place...All gone...Including Liet.

_She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette  
She broke his heart, he spent his whole life tryin' to forget  
_

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**A/N:** God this was only the first part and I'm already crying. Next chapter is probably going to come tomorrow, I apologize for this being so short. The lyrics will also pop up at the beginning of the next chapter.


	2. We Watched Him Drink His Pain Away

**A/N:** More angsting, I feel absolutely terrible for America. DX America blames himself, even though I think he knows that it wasn't entirely his fault.

Hetalia, Denmark, Russia, America, and the Baltics belong to Hidekaz Himaruya

The story, belongs to me.

Please R&R~

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_We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time_

The other nations had noticed the change in the usually boisterous America. Instead of being loud and annoying as he usually was, he had become reserved angry...Spending most of his time in the bars near his home with Denmark. Even Denmark, America's drinking buddy and his 'bro' had noticed the American's sudden change in demeanor. None of the other nations knew what was going on with Alfred F. Jones, many of them thinking that he and Liet had gotten into a real bad fight.

No...None of the other nations knew what had happened. How Russia had somehow broke into his own home while he was away...Forcing the Baltics to go back with him. From what Alfred had been able to tell in the short amount of time in his frantic search of each of the rooms, they all had put up a struggle. Still...Didn't help much since they didn't make it to the hiding spot in time.

Denmark frowned as he watched the blond nation down several shots of whiskey in less than a minute. Alfred was his buddy, his 'bro'...Seeing him like this not only worried him, but the other nations. Denmark watched as America's chin hit the scraped wood of the bar as his eyes closed, a single tear escaping from his tear duct as it rolled down his cheek and hit the wood beneath his chin.

"Alfred...You're my bro...You know you can talk to me. What's going on with you? Did you and Liet get into a fight?" Denmark couldn't help himself but speak up and ask the other nation. He was genuinely concerned for the much younger nation; he had never seen the nation who considers himself to be a hero this depressed. It worried many of the other nations as well, for good reason. The super nation who annoyed many of the nations with his loud nature, but also inspired others to stand up and take control of their own lives...Looked so small and unsure. So...Human.

"...Gone...They're gone Denny..." Alfred whispered as he sat up, taking another glass of whiskey before tipping it upward before downing the amber liquid in one gulp.

"Gone? Who's gone? What're you talking about Al? Don't tell me Lithuania left you..." Denmark said quietly as a frown pulled at his lips, watching as America downed another shot.

"The Baltics...Liet...They're gone. Russia somehow managed to get in my house while I was gone and took them back...That damn fucking communist!" America let out a loud growl as his hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as if to see if he could still feel any sort of emotion, mainly pain. He let out a yell as he slammed his fists on the bar, practically ignoring the stares he was receiving from the other people in the bar. His entire body trembled and shook as his teeth slightly bared, his eyes squeezing shut behind his glasses, "I wasn't strong enough...I couldn't protect them...I broke my promise...To my brothers, to Liet..."

America felt his face fall into his hands as his fingers clawed at the side of his own face. Denmark watched the other nation, stunned at what was coming from America's mouth. He closed an eye as Alfred downed another shot, practically slamming the glass onto the bar before it shattered. The glass shards stuck in his hands as Alfred numbly looked at his horribly cut and bloody hand. Only staring at it as the thick, crimson liquid ran from the cuts on his hand as it ran down his arm and seeped into the wood of the bar below.

The barkeep glared at the two nations, looking toward Denmark, then America, then back at Denmark. "You and your buddy get the hell out of my bar!" He growled as Denmark glared toward the barkeep, hissing as he helped a wasted America get to his feet. "Don't think we'll be coming back." Denmark slung America's arm over his shoulder as he helped him off of his chair, out of the bar, and to get the younger nation's home.

He helped Alfred get inside and laid him down on the couch, watching the super-nation with a look of pure concern on his normally happy face. Denmark frowned as he turned and left the house, closing the door behind him with a shake of his head. "I'm sure he'll get out of this rut...I know how he feels with Norge..." He whispered to himself as he walked down the street to go stay with one of America's states so he could check on the younger nation in the morning.

_But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind_

_Until' the night_

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**A/N: **Ok, notes of reference with America and Denmark. The relationship between America and Denmark on the RPG thread is that they are best friends, drinking buddies, and 'bros'. Denmark is America's confidant like America is to Denmark. With that Denmark said about Norway at the end, it refers to the capture of Norway by Sweden. Denmark truly means what he said about knowing what America is going through, and he genuinely concerned for his 'bro'.

Next chapter probably coming tonight or tomorrow.


	3. He Put that Bottle To His Head

**A/N:** All I'll say is that I cried. T^T Thank you guys for the story alerts and favorites so far! Please review also!

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Alfred didn't realize that he was laying on the couch as he slowly began to stir, his head beginning to heavily pound against his forehead like someone was beating at his brain with a hammer. He let out a quiet audible groan as he reached upward and pushed at the sides of his head, unconsciously curling into a tight fetal position on the couch.

This was the first time he remember being sober over the course of the past few days, so it was no wonder the hangover he was experiencing is so bad. Within a split second the events of the wretched day flooded back to his mind with never-ending spite, as if in his non-drunken stupor his conscience was going to take the opportunity to wrack at his extreme feeling and sense of guilt.

He felt his eyes squeeze shut, his hands clinging tightly to his hair as he felt the warm tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He remembered now why he had been getting himself drunk...To relieve himself from the wretched torment that there was really nothing he could have done...The guilt of not being home so he could've protected them, to fend off the communist beast that is Ivan Braginski.

Alfred shakily got to his feet as he stumbled into the kitchen, removing another large bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He tipped the bottle upward as the warm, amber liquid slid down his throat as he staggered and stumbled toward the stairs. With some difficulty, he made it upstairs while somehow finding himself in his room not a minute later.

His gaze wandered before something out-of-place caught his eyes, downing another large gulp of the whiskey before be bent down and picked up the dark object. It was one of the tops of Liet's dark green uniform; even as the alcohol began to take its lingering effects he recognized it immediately. His hand shakily ran along the coarse fabric before he held the shirt against the bottom part of his face. His eyes closed as he took in the shirt's distinctive scent, Liet's scent.

All of the memories crashed back in his mind with his scent as its trigger, including the most recent one...The hardest one for him to think about. The night when he finally got the guts to propose...With his proposal being excitedly accepted.

He felt an overwhelming rage overtake his body, getting up as he threw the bottle with the small amount of the remaining whiskey onto the floor. Tears fell down his cheeks as he watched the glass bottle shatter as the liquid seep into the wooden floors below.

"Everything. That fucker took everything." Alfred heard himself growl in the back of his throat, slurring his words as he alcohol really began to take effect again. He looked downward at the dresser by his bed and opened the drawer, eying the pistol at the bottom. He reached down and picked up the gun by the hilt, staring at it. It was the gun that England had given to him when he had won his independence after they were back on speaking terms once again.

He looked toward his desk before staggering toward it, removing a piece of paper and a pen. He began to write out a quick note in a drunken scrawl, frowning to himself before he slowly walked back toward the bed and sat down. He sat the note on the table as he stared at the gun in a loving way, as if the weapon of iron was the source of redemption and the savior to relieve himself from the pain of the worst kind of pain...Heartbreak.

Alfred slowly raised his arm and closed his eyes, feeling the barrel pressed against the side of his head as he let out a quiet whisper to himself.

"Goodbye...Liet. I hope I will be able to see you again soon..."

He pressed his finger against the trigger, hearing the loud bang of the gunshot for a split second before everything went black.

_He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger  
And finally drank away her memory_

_Life is short but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_


End file.
